


(i love her) the beginning and end of everything

by eventyyr



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Bughead Secret Santa, Christmas Fluff, F/M, So many cliches, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 03:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13181286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eventyyr/pseuds/eventyyr
Summary: "But how do you convince someone you’ve only had an actual conversation with once or twice, to lend you their car?"Betty has to get a Christmas tree upstate, but she doesn't own a car. Thankfully her mysterious neighbor does and together they go on a road-trip to get a Christmas tree for Betty. Unfortunately a snow storm approaches and they have to seek shelter for the night. Will something shift in their newfound friendship?





	(i love her) the beginning and end of everything

**Author's Note:**

> This is my secret santa gift for @jinititay on tumblr. 
> 
> Major thanks to @jsmndns (on tumblr) for not only moral support, but also for helping me a lot with the aesthetic and for being an amazing beta<3  
> This is inspired my @raptorlily's (on tumblr) plot.
> 
> The will be a multi-chapter so keep an eye out for an update.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy:)

Betty closed her laptop with a sigh.  
How was there no affordable, mediocre-looking Christmas trees in Brooklyn? She’d been roaming the internet for 20 minutes, looking for a place with any real Christmas trees left, even though it was the 24th and most of them were gone already.

She looked at the clock on her oven. It read 8:30am.That meant there was still 12 hours till her sister arrived at her apartment, having flown in from California.

Betty had lived in her apartment in Brooklyn for about 3 months, attending college at NYU. The apartment was small and on the edge of a semi-bad area, but it was cheap and it was all she needed. It was still better than community showers and shared dorms. 

She had managed to talk her parents into celebrating Christmas at her place. Growing up, Betty Cooper had always sought to impress her parents and be the perfect daughter. After long phone calls with her mom, Alice Cooper, had finally agreed to let Betty host Christmas at her place. But for Betty that meant it had to be impeccable in every aspect. Especially when it came to the Christmas tree. It was a tradition in the Cooper family to have a real Christmas tree. It was simple to find a tree farm in her hometown. But out here in New York City, it was much easier said than done.

Her sister Polly lived in California attending Stanford University. She would arrive on Christmas Eve and help Betty prepare for Christmas morning when their parents were scheduled to arrive.

But today Betty’s priority was to find the godforsaken tree. She opened her laptop once again, deciding the only way to get a tree that would live up her mother’s standards would be to leave the city. 

Most of the farms she could find were in upstate New York, but she eventually found a place called Evergreen View Christmas Tree Farm in Tug Hill, New York. Betty knew it was far, almost a 4-hour drive, but she refused to be the first one to break the tradition of having a Blue Spruce tree. 

However, one problem Betty realised was that she had no idea how she was supposed to transport it all the way back to the Big Apple. She didn’t own a car. After all, she lived in New York. If you wanted to get somewhere on time you had to take the subway, or some other form of public transportation. 

Unless, Betty thought. Her neighbour, Jughead, she remembered, had a jeep. She’d never actually seen him driving it, but it was parked in the spot with his name, so it had to be his.

But how do you convince someone you’ve only had an actual conversation with once or twice, to lend you their car?

Betty sat for a minute, chewing her lip as she let her mind wander. Aha, cookies. Who says no to that?

Thankfully for her she already had all the ingredients required to bake great granny Cooper’s infamous crispy ginger cookies. 

Betty slid off the stool she was sitting on and pulled on a light green apron.  
She began measuring up the dry ingredients. Later adding the wet ingredients to the mix and stirring it all together with an electrical mixer. 

Betty’s phone vibrated on the counter, her sister letting her know that she was now leaving to head to the airport. She wiped her hands on the apron so she could respond her sister with a “see you soon”.

Betty turned back to the counter putting a piece of clingfilm over the dough and placed it in the fridge.

Setting her phone timer to half an hour, Betty went into the bathroom to take a shower while the cookie dough rested. 

Coming out of the bathroom a bit later she went to her dresser and pulled out a cream-coloured sweater with light blue snowflakes on and a pair of dark wash blue jeans. She got dressed and pulled her hair into a tight ponytail.

Betty went back to the fridge and pulled out the bowl. She pressed a finger to the dough, finding it firm enough to roll into small balls. After forming the balls, she coated them in granulated sugar and placed them on the baking sheet lined with parchment paper. 

Betty once again sat her timer, this time to twelve minutes and popped the sheet in the oven. 

While waiting for the cookies to finish baking, she looked around her cupboards for a mason jar to present the cookies in, along with a little red ribbon to tie around the lid. 

When the timer went off her whole apartment smelled heavenly and Betty found herself wishing she’d made a bigger portion. She let the cookies cool on a wire rack for a bit, before eventually placing half of the cookies in the mason jar. The other half was put in a Tupperware container for her and her sister to enjoy later that evening. 

Before leaving her apartment, she put on a pair of light brown suede boots she had gotten for her birthday and grabbed her keys. She closed her door and moved across the hall, knocking on the door. 

She stood there about a minute without anyone answering, and she became slightly worried she hadn’t knocked hard enough. She raised her hand again, this time knocking somewhat forcefully, hoping she could be heard on the other side of the door. But once again no one answered, and Betty began to wonder if anyone was actually home. Just as she was about to turn back to her apartment with a light frown brimming with frustration, the door opened.

The man in front of her, looked like he’d been asleep for 100 years, almost like Sleeping Beauty, because beautiful he was.  
His hair was a dark mess and his eyes were still getting used to the light from the hallway. He was wearing a dark grey t-shirt with the letter “S” printed in black on his stomach.  
Betty felt herself getting lost in his alluring blue eyes and mentally slapped herself for staring. 

“Hi?” he asked, his voice laced with sleepiness and slight annoyance; why was someone knocking on his door at 9:30 in the morning on a Saturday during his holiday?

Betty felt slightly startled by the rough, unexpected voice.

“Hello. Sorry, did I wake you? I’m so sorry, that wasn’t my intention,” Betty felt herself starting to ramble, but once she’d started it was like she couldn’t stop. She looked down at her fumbling hands. “I’ll just leave and let you get back to sleeping.”

A gentle hand on her bicep was what brought her defeated emerald green eyes back to his.  
“It’s okay, I had to get up at some point anyway,” he said kindly. “So why did you stop by?”

Taking a deep breath Betty began to explain: “So the thing is, I have to get to Tug Hill to get a Christmas tree, but I don’t have a car. But I’ve noticed that you have a jeep, so I was wondering if I could maybe borrow it?”

Jughead could hear the desperateness in her voice, but he didn’t bother enquiring; that was none of his business.

“When was the last time you drove a car? Let alone in 12 inches of snow?” he asked, a playful tone colouring his words.

Right, Betty hadn’t taken that into consideration. Her gaze dropped and her mind swirled with thoughts, how would she ever get that tree home?

“How about-“Jughead started out and Betty’s eyes quickly rose to his, filled with newfound hope.“You give me those cookies-“he pointed down to the mason jar in her hands “and I’ll drive with you to Tug Hill?” he proposed. 

“Really? Are you sure you want to spend the day of Christmas Eve trapped in a car with me? I’m sure you have something better to do,” Betty felt the excitement rush through her body, but she tried to calm herself; surely when he gave it a second thought he’d withdraw his offer.

“Well I don’t, and to be fair there’s worse ways to spend the day than in the company of a beautiful blonde,” he said, and Betty could see a hint of a smirk forming on his lips.

Betty cursed herself for blushing and handed him the cookies. They stood in silence, both waiting for the other to say something. It was Jughead who broke the silence.

“So, I can be ready in 15 minutes,” he said, gesturing to his pyjamas.

Right, Betty had forgotten all about that. She gave him a faint smile as she turned on her heel and went back into her apartment. 

Once inside, she began to gather essentials for the trip: phone, wallet, keys, an extra pair of socks (just in case), a couple of water bottles, a book (you never know if you have time to kill), a bad of mixed nuts, and a banana. And of course, her emergency kit. Band-Aids, hair ties, mouthwash, painkillers, hand sanitizer, and lip balm might not always be needed on a 9-hour trip, but as her mother used to say: “Better safe than sorry”. She stuffed it all in a tote bag and went to retrieve her rust coloured parka coat and one of those knitted hats with a furry pom-pom. 

Betty heard a knock on the door and went to open it, and outside stood Jughead.  
He was wearing a dark brown Sherpa jacket and a grey, crown-looking beanie. A black bag was thrown across his shoulder. Betty remembered hearing he was a photographer, so the bag probably held his camera.

They made their way down the stairs in silence, and down to the navy blue jeep. It looked a bit old and worn, but as long as it could drive it was good enough for Betty.

They settled in their respective seats and Jughead, slowly pulled out of the cramped parking spot. They drove through West Brooklyn onto Williamsburg Bridge. Getting through Manhattan was hell. When the streets weren’t standardized, they were packed with hundreds of other cars. They eventually made it onto the highway, and from there it went a lot easier. 

Betty didn’t think she’d ever get used to traffic in New York. She was from a small town in Virginia and it was rare if more than 10 cars passed her house per day. Jughead was so calm about it, and she wondered if he was used to driving in the city, perhaps he’d grown up here, or maybe he was just a good driver. Betty felt a sudden spark of curiosity, but she didn’t want to pry. After all, they barely knew each other. Still, she wanted to at least know a bit about the man she’s to spend 4 hours in a car with.

“So, Jughead, what’s your story? You’re a photographer, right?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t feel as though she was invading his privacy.

“I am. I went to NYU planning to major in Art History, but I decided to drop out after 10 months because I couldn’t stand a second longer of doing something I had no interest in. Then I became a freelance photographer, like I always dreamed about as a kid,” Jughead smiled at the memory. “I only went to college because my mum always wanted me to, and I guess I just wanted to make her happy.” And just as quickly as the smile had appeared, it left. His hands tightened on the steering wheel and he looked out the windscreen. 

Betty suddenly felt bad about asking and she lowered her eyes to her hands, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. 

“I go to NYU too.”

Jughead looked to his right in surprise. It had been about 8 minutes since anyone spoke a word, so it took a few seconds for him to put the pieces together. 

“I’m majoring in journalism,” she spoke once again, a little louder this time. “In the beginning, I think did it for my mum as well. She and my dad own the local newspaper in my hometown, so I figured being a journalist was in my cards. But I guess there was always a little Nancy Drew hidden in me, because I have an internship in a few weeks on The New York Times, and I’m excited. Not only will it look good on my resume but I’m certain it’ll be an experience of a lifetime.” A wide smile spread across her lips.

“I’m guessing Christmas is really important to you, considering you’ve decided to drive 4 hours north for a Christmas tree instead of walking two blocks to get one,” he chuckled.

“My family is coming over for the first time,” she didn’t elaborate, and Jughead didn’t find it in his right to question the unsaid. 

“I usually spend Christmas with my best friend Archie and his girlfriend Veronica at Archie’s dad’s house. I practically grew up in the Andrew’s house, Archie’s like a brother to me. But Veronica’s parents invited all three to Cuba to celebrate Christmas. So, this year it’s just gonna be me, Chinese takeout, and video games”. Jughead had a feeling this trip would contain a lot of reminiscing, and for some reason that didn’t make him want to remove himself from the situation immediately. 

“What about your family, aren’t you celebrating Christmas with them?” Betty felt bad about asking due to his reaction surrounding his mother, but he must have some family.

Jughead sighed. Thinking about this part of his life wasn’t his favourite activity to say the least. “Well, my dad is in prison for something gang related, my mom is god knows where, and my little sister is living in D.C. with my grandmother while attending school,” he admitted with a grimace. 

“Jughead I’m so sorry,” she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. What do you tell someone who just told you their dad’s in prison and mom has abandoned them?  
Instead of saying any more, she placed a hand to his forearm currently resting on the steering wheel. 

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past,” he stated melodramatically.

Laughter filled the vehicle, from both.

“Did you just quote F. Scott Fitzgerald of all people?” she giggled.

“I sure did. And to be honest Archie and his dad has always been a second family,” he offered a faint smile and she returned it. 

After a few moments of silence Betty asked: “So Fitzgerald, I hadn’t expected that from you.”

“Actually, besides wanting to be a photographer one of my childhood dreams was to become a writer. As a matter of fact I did write a novel based off the events happening in the town I grew up in, Riverdale.”

Betty raised her eyebrows in question.

“Is a murder and several drug crimes, not what you expect from a small town in New York?” he laughed at her shocked expression.

They continued to small talk about college and work for the rest of the ride and Jughead learned that Betty also works part-time in a craft store in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

When they reached the tree farm it felt like they’d only been driving for an hour, but it must be how it feels when you’re in good company Betty thought.

They parked the jeep alongside the road and stepped out. 

The landscape was magnificent. It looked like what people call “a winter wonderland”. The tall conifer trees on the mountains were covered in snow and the tyre tracks the jeep had just made were already covered in a duvet of fresh snow.

“Let’s go get you that tree,” Jughead said with a wide grin, and together they walked down the narrow trail leading to a small hut. 

It was warm and nice inside the hut because of the fireplace in the corner, and the pair immediately went to stand beside it. 

A man in his sixties dressed in a grey knitted sweater, red overall and green wellingtons entered the main room from the backdoor. He had a saw slung over his shoulder. 

“Well hello kids,” the older man spoke with a thick New Yorker accent. “Can I help you with anything?”

Betty was just about to open her mouth when Jughead said: “Yes! We’re looking for the best Blue Spruce tree you have.”

Betty smiled, it was as though she’d won the lottery? Not only had Jughead given up his entire day to help her, but he was also interesting and funny.

“Well, that I can do for you. Tag along.”

The man exited to backdoor and the pair followed suit. He led them down narrow paths and they had to trudge through one foot snow for about a half mile. 

 

“I’m Ronald by the way. You can call be Ron,” he said, trying to break the silence.

“I’m Betty, and this is Jughead,” Betty responded in her always chirpy tone.

“So, where are you two from? I haven’t seen you here in Tug Hill before.”

“Oh no, we’re actually from Brooklyn. I needed a Christmas tree and Jughead was kind enough to go with me,” she and Jughead exchanged a smile. “And of course, there is Christmas trees in New York City, but if you want the good kind you’ve to go a bit further out.”

“I’m sure Tug Hill is the right place for you then,” he chuckled at her enthusiasm.

 

Betty was in awe when they reached the plantation. Oceans of Christmas trees, tall and majestic. 

“Perfect,” she breathed.

“How about you, young lady, go look for the tree you want while your boyfriend and I go and fetch the chain saw from the truck,” the tree farmer said, pointing to the truck 30 meters away. 

“Actually-“ Betty protested, but she didn’t manage to say anymore because he’d already walked away.

Betty began the search through the great trees. It was like a labyrinth to get around the trees. Either they were too small or too big. 

 

“You’ve got a great girl there son,” Ron said.

“Oh no, she’s not my girlfriend. We’re just friends,” Jughead replied with nervousness laced in his voice.

The older man laughed loud. “Tell that to the marines, boy,” he grabbed the chain saw from the truck bed and together they returned to the plantation.

Where did he get that idea from? Jughead thought. It was clear that they were only friends. Or was it? No. They’ve only known each other for a few hours, his mind must be playing a trick on him.

Jughead shook his head, he could feel himself getting dizzy from the thought. When he finally caught up with Betty she’d moved far away from the spot he last saw her. She was standing in front of a 9 feet tall tree, admiring its many full branches and its faint blue undertones.

 

“This is it. This is the one,” A broad smile spread on her lips.

Jughead could only smile at her thrilled facial expression.

“Alright, your wish is my command,” Ron said and began sawing down the tree.

 

Ron drove the tree back to the hut on his truck while Betty and Jughead walked back. Back at the small wooden hut Betty paid and thanked for the tree, and soon Betty and Jughead were back in the Jeep with the tree attached to the roof. 

“I’m hungry,” Jughead stated.

Betty giggled at his sudden outburst of cravings. “Well about we get some late lunch before we hit the road? There must be some place to eat in this town.”

They drove back down the mountain, down to the little town.

Betty and Jughead were used to small towns, but this was something else. It consisted of a town hall, a few stores, a sheriff station, and what looked like a tavern. They parked the car outside the pub and went in. It was a small space, but it was filled with locals chatting, drinking and eating. There were booths alongside the windows facing the streets, but they were all occupied. In the middle of the room there was a long table with a bunch of merry residents. There was exactly two spots available and Jughead and Betty took a spot on either side of the table. 

“Anything to drink?” a voice came behind up behind Betty. Betty recognised her accent as British. The owner of said voice was a young girl, probably around the same age as themselves with short raven hair and green eyes. 

“You’re not from here, are you? I’m Midge, my dad owns the tavern. You staying?”

“We’re from Brooklyn, I’m Betty and this is Jughead,” Betty said gesturing to her companion on the other side of the table.

“Actually, can we just order food now? We have to hit the road soon,” Jughead interposed.

“Yeah good luck with that,” Midge scoffed.

Betty’s face went from happy to worried in a heartbeat. “What do you mean by that?” she asked, concern painted all over her features.

“Haven’t you heard yet? There’s a blizzard hitting the whole state, it could be any second now. I’m surprised you didn’t hear anything before you left the City.”

“Oh no!” Betty turned her face from Midge’s back to Jughead’s in front of her. “What do we do?”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? Please let me know if you did, that would mean the world:)  
> Find me on tumblr @dawn-to-dusk-already
> 
> xx


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